


What We Can Be

by WaywardDesertKnight



Series: Coming Home to You [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Post-Second Age, Quenya Names Used, References to Sex, mild nudity, re-embodiment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 14:56:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5252465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardDesertKnight/pseuds/WaywardDesertKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A thousand moments things could have changed. A thousand moments squandered. For one elf it's past time to say what he wanted to in those thousand moments. The past is still real, but the future always belongs to those who wish to work for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Can Be

Findekáno slid off of his mount, faced once more with the gates to the Gardens. He blushed briefly as his fingers ran over one satchel on the blanket beside his camping gear. After roughly shoving the thoughts from his head, he strode up to the Maia awaiting him at the gate for the fifth time, not including his own return. The blue brocade cloak swept from his shoulders, swapped for the grey cloak in the Maia's arms. Once he'd drawn the hood up, he nodded and without a word, the Maia led him through the gates into the garden. Rather than ponder over the others returning to life here, the Noldo's mind ventured instead to his encounter with the Master of the Halls. The Lord Námo had few questions for him when he asked audience.

In fact as far as the elf could recall the Vala had only asked him one - Why?

It had not been an easy question to answer, it involved many a painful memory, and at least a few dozen unspoken feelings. Still his plea had been answered, and he had ridden, much to the horse's chagrin, straight here with all haste. Back in the depths of the garden, the Maia paused before one tree, only moving briefly enough so that Findekáno did not run into them while lost in thought. The caretaker tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to a glade, which the Noldo half-recognized as the one he had woken up in some years prior. At least he was pretty sure, unlike his sister, he tended to get lost when distracted in the woods. He gave a quick, silent bow to the Maia and ducked into the glade.

At the center of the glade, in a bed of soft grass lay an elf; tall, beautiful, and, Findekáno swallowed, face bright red, naked. He chuckled in his head as he knelt beside the elf, studying with curiosity and worry. His uncle had not said what happened to Maitimo after he stole the last two Silmarils. Though judging by the fact he was here at all, and that the silver lines of re-embodiment resembled those of Maitimo's youngest brother, it was not a happy tale to tell. It was odd, the Noldo mused, to see Maitimo with both his arms, as well as without his freckles. His fingers reached out and stroked the thin layer of fuzz, pushing back the memory of the last time he had seen the other elf's hair so short.

After a few strokes, both sets of eyelids fluttered and the once-dead elf snapped awake, flailing for all he was worth. Which, given that his spirit hadn't used muscles in at least two Ages was more akin to a beached fish. Findekáno reached out, cupped the other's cheeks in his hands, and pressed their foreheads together. Maitimo stilled, his freshly beating heart raced in his chest, even as he collected himself. Slow, hesitant fingers clutched the hem of the cloak, even as his throat twisted to find some words, whether of greeting or apology.

Findekáno pressed a thumb over his lips, the shake of his head halted Maitimo's thoughts. As the smaller elf drew back, the Maia slipped in once more with a set of the grey raiment of the re-embodied. After frowning at the clothes, Maitimo began to pull them on, his right arm dangled at his side. As he pulled on the shirt, the returned elf's frown deepened, his left arm had found the sleeve quite easily, but his right struggled. With a gentle smile, the other Noldo guided his arm through it and straightened the seam to lie neatly on his shoulder. The leggings proved less difficult as Maitimo gripped them hesitantly with both hands and pulled them on.

It was a bittersweet moment for the Noldo as he watched the eldest son of Fëanáro dress. Now that they had seen one another, he had little idea of what to say when they left. That and he had been admiring Maitimo, after all there was a reason Nerdanel had called him that. As Findekáno moved to stand, he flushed, drawing his cloak closer about him, no need to startle his friend with that declaration just yet. He offered a hand down to Maitimo, and hauled the other to his feet. For his part, Maitimo wobbled, draped over Findekáno for support. It took some time to follow their Maia host from the garden, the tall elf wove with each step, even with help.

When they reached the gates, the Maia paused and offered Findekáno his cloak. The small elf draped Maitimo on the gate while they exchanged. Their guide broke their silence briefly, "welcome back to the land of the living." Maitimo blinked, slow and bewildered, while he nodded. The Maia then turned, the gate sealing behind them.

Findekáno twirled about, a ripple of gold, white, and blue surrounded him from the cloak. "Um, hi Russandol." A mental kick followed, after two Ages and pleading his case before Lord Námo, all he could say was 'hi'.

"Findekáno..." he replied, voice rough. "It's good to see you again..."

"And you!" He chirped, heartened by the reply. "Are you hungry? I brought lunch! And I have camp set up just over here-"

Maitimo found enough strength in his limbs to pull Findekáno into a crushing embrace. "You're alive. You're alive."

Gasping, the Noldo managed a chuckle, "not if you squish me Russandol."

"I-I- you-" He choked on his sob. "Findekáno, I am sorry, for everything I put you through..."

Gentle as ever, he guided the other to the small camp he had set up and set him down on the log next to the two bedrolls. It occurred to Findekáno as he puttered about the camp, making tea and a snack, that those who hadn't gone through the sport needed more coaxing back to reality than those that did. Maitimo sat in silence watching him, some skepticism in his gaze, as the other Noldo prodded their lunch towards the fire to cook. Satisfied with his work, he flopped down next to the re-embodied elf.

"How can you act like nothing happened?"

The question caught Findekáno off guard, and he averted his gaze, even as the blush crept back into his cheeks. "What kind of a question is that, Russandol?"

"You, seated here beside me, acting as though everything I did... every hurt and grievance I caused you was nothing." He sighed. "I caused you more pain than any friend ever should..."

"Russandol..."

Maitimo closed his eyes, the pain coming back with his memories. "You're sitting there calling me by your name for me, smiling as though you haven't a care in the world. I saw you die, Findekáno, and- and-"

"And yet here I sit right as rain as though nothing ever happened to me?"

"Yes."

"I suppose there is a reason... a very, very selfish reason." Findekáno swallowed, steeling his courage. "If you will permit me a moment."

"Of course." The tall elf nodded, eyes still closed. He couldn't bear to look upon the other when he spoke. That was until a warm, substantial weight settled on his lap, arms draped on his shoulders and the barest flick of a kiss pressed to his lips. Maitimo's eyes fluttered open, squinting to find himself face to face with Findekáno, the other elf's mouth on his. "Cánë," he stuttered out against the mouth of the other elf. "Are you certain?"

"I waited too long for this, for you," Findekáno replied, his heart skipping a beat at the short form of his mother name. "I won't make the same mistake again. I love you." Once the words had passed his lips he surged forward into the kiss.

Maitimo's heart broke at the simple sentence. He had wasted centuries on the Oath, and when the time came that he thought he could at last say the words too, it was too late. It had wounded him deeper than any other loss, and part of him had died that day. The tears returned, and any other day it would embarrass the Noldo to no end to weep so much and so freely, but he suspected that Findekáno would forgive him.

Even as Findekáno drew back, he pulled his lover's head to his shoulder, "it's alright now, I think. We can't fix the past, but we can make a better future." He grinned, "after all, you're stuck with me whether you like it or not."

"Huh?" The elf's dark eyes blinked as he studied his jubilant friend.

"Part of the condition of your release when I went to petition it," he explained, running his thumbs along the short, tearstained lashes, "is that you are to stay with me in my care. I am to ensure you don't try anything terrible again."

A heavy sigh rolled through the tall elf, "I suppose I should have suspected as much." Findekáno shifted on his lap at that, and the blush spread to his own cheeks. "Cánë, are you-"

"I can move." He squeaked.

Maitimo then, finally in control of his body once more, hoisted the smaller elf up and carried him to the bedrolls, pinning him down with a firm kiss. "I like you where you are."

"B-But what about lunch, and tea?" He stuttered as his lover's mouth closed on the tip of his ear.

"We can take a lunch break."

"Mmm," he pointed to the satchel now settled near the rest of his equipment, "then you'll want to get in that bag, there are things in there for this."

Maitimo's faint eyebrow rose with an amused smile, "you planned this."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he feigned innocence. "It is a custom now to carry lubrication on one's travels."

"Right. And I am the Prince of Eagles."

Findekáno perked, "are you?"

The other shook his head laughing, "no, I am not."

A brief pout crossed the small elf's face before he pounced and tackled the other, tickling him through the thin layer of cloth. Maitimo broke out laughing, "What are you doing?"

"Seducing you," he shouted and continued, straddling the Noldo. "Is it working?"

The firstborn son of Fëanáro smiled and let his hands drift into the gold braided hair. "With you? Always." He dragged Findekáno into a kiss, mouth open and needy.

~

The pair of elves paused in the underbrush. "Woo big brother!" Ambarussa shouted.

"Get some!" Ambarto added as they found Findekáno's camp.

Their shouts drew Curufinwë, Lindëwen, and Nerdanel through the underbrush, the former carrying his young daughter. Their older brother came to an abrupt halt, one hand covering his child's face. "I'm leaving, come along Lótë." He cooed to his daughter, Nárëlótë, as he pulled an about face.

Lindëwen laughed, "Ambarussa let them have their fun."

"But Lindë," they pouted.

Nerdanel nodded in agreement. "She's right, you can give them grief about this at the wedding. In the meantime, I believe you have outfits to plan."

"Ooh," they chorused, with matching grins that spelled chaos, mayhem, and destruction.

Curufinwë rolled his eyes, "please put them in something decent. I never want to see another of my brothers naked again."

 

**Author's Note:**

> I know I promised another chapter of Sport, but this happened instead. My apologies.


End file.
